


don’t wake me, i’m not dreaming

by strangehunger



Series: at the end, we’ll start again (san junipero au) [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s03e04 San Junipero, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deleted Scenes, Exes, F/F, Frottage, Laughter During Sex, Minor Angst, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, can be read as a standalone though, deleted scene from another fic, they’re both kinda switches and they’re both kinda service tops tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangehunger/pseuds/strangehunger
Summary: The world tilts and Catra tilts with it. Undone by her own shoelace, Adora finds herself falling backwards onto the bed. She drags Catra down with her. It’s a miracle their faces don’t smack together.Way to ruin the moment, Adora,she thinks, her face hot with embarrassment as well as arousal. The weight of Catra’s body against hers is achingly familiar and Adora wants to pull her tighter, press up against her until she no longer knows the difference to the two. She feels Catra shake against her for a moment and pulls back, worried that maybe she had hit something on the way down.Catra pushes up so that she’s nearly straddling Adora and laughs. Adora sits up a little bit, pushing herself up on her haunches — and then she’s laughing too, something about the scene feeling strangely familiar.“You’re such an idiot,” says Catra. With the back of her hand, she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes.________Deleted scene from my San Junipero AU,at the end, we’ll start again, but can be read as a smutty stand-alone between two exes in a mostly modern au.....
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: at the end, we’ll start again (san junipero au) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823668
Comments: 18
Kudos: 285





	don’t wake me, i’m not dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> I............don’t have an excuse for this. I wanted to write angst but ended up with more smut than anything else. Don’t @ me. I’d really prefer if minors don’t read this but if they do, do NOT!! Interact with me about it!! Thanks!
> 
> This is a continuation of my San Junipero AU, [at the end, we’ll start again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872959). If you haven’t read it, you really don’t _need_ to — this can be read as two exes who meet in a club and then hook up together. Most of the full story takes place in a virtual reality simulation, and there are vague hints at that in this. You don’t NEED to read that first, the first thousand words or so are lifted from a scene in that, so if you are trying to go in fully spoiler free, you might want to read that first. The primary work is almost entire SFW except for the fade to black that this one fills in and mentions of like, alcohol and nightlife. 
> 
> My social medias are in my other fics. If you read this one.... please do not @ me about it on my twitter, which is SFW! Also this will only be accessible to people with AO3 accounts. 
> 
> This is absolutely not beta'ed.
> 
> Title from Past Lives by BORNS. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, bc more than one IRL has found this account, so. This is posted at a great personal cost 💞

Adora had expected…. 

Adora doesn’t know what she had expected. 

A back room, a hotel? One of the many luxe high-rises crawling up into the city skyline? She hadn’t expected Catra to veer her car — a red, sporty little thing whose engine she revs with unbridled glee — out of city limits and onto one of the highways. The blur of city lights fade into the background and then it’s just the two of them, a net of stars cast into the dark heavens above. They crest a bend in the road and suddenly the ocean runs the side of the road to their right, its dark waves rolling against the shore in a susurrus that fills the night. Adora closes her eyes and listens to it, lets the wind whip her loose hair around her face. It’s been so long since she has seen the ocean. 

They don’t talk much during the drive. The radio croons songs that Adora hasn’t heard in years, but she’s more focused on the way Catra hums along than on the actual lyrics. She drives so fast that Adora’s heart pounds in her chest — not with fear, but with exhilaration. 

The beach house Catra pulls up to is smaller than Adora had expected. The Catra she remembers was extravagant — whether for personal pleasure or for the status symbol, it was always hard to tell. She hadn’t had much growing up, had clawed her way out of her humble beginnings with single-minded determination. Suddenly, Adora wants to know _everything_ about her. What she did with her life. How far she managed to climb. 

Inside, it feels even smaller. It’s nice, though. Neatly kept, nicely decorated. Essentially one big room with a kitchen off to the side. A plush bed has been pushed up against a giant, open window, gauzy curtains streaming in the night breeze. It drifts through the room, lifting the sheets off of a set of covered canvases amassed in one corner. Catra had always liked to paint, and Adora’s fingers itch to pull the coverings away.

“You’re sure settled in,” Adora says distractedly, taking in the pictures on the wall, the tasteful decoration. “How long have you been coming here?” 

“A while,” Catra says noncommittally, and then her hands are on Adora’s waist, pulling her in. 

Aside from their earlier rendezvous in the bathroom, it’s been a long time since anyone has kissed Adora. Even longer since anyone has kissed her like _this._ She curls her fingers around Catra’s jaw, tries to fit their mouths even closer together. Pushes one hand back through the hair at the base of Catra’s skull, relishes the way it feels against her fingers. Catra’s lips are soft, a sharp contrast to the teeth that sink into Adora’s lower lip, drawing it in.

Adora lets her in, lets Catra’s hands on her waist guide her slowly back towards the bed. She presses her fingers into that spot just behind her ear that Catra used to like and is rewarded with an open-mouthed groan against her lips. Her own mouth curves into a smile at the sound. She uses the leverage to pull Catra deeper into the kiss, her fingers pulling tendrils of Catra’s hair from its ponytail with each pass against her scalp.

A single, questioning finger hooks under the thin strap of her dress, pulls it gently down the slope of her shoulder. Adora could blink, and it would all come off — but she takes her time instead, pulling the fabric of Catra’s shirt from where it’s tucked into her pants, bunching it between her fingers so she can feel the warm skin underneath. She maps out the ridges of Catra’s ribcage with the pads of her fingers, exploring that once familiar landscape like a traveller coming home. 

Catra’s hands fumble with the zipper of Adora’s dress. Impatient, she reaches behind herself to assist — but it doesn’t matter how coordinated she might have been in competition, her mind is already occupied with kissing, trying to stay upright, and dragging the zipper of her dress downward. She can barely handle the first task, let alone the other two. 

The world tilts and Catra tilts with it. Undone by her own shoelace, Adora finds herself falling backwards onto the bed. She drags Catra down with her, and it’s a miracle their faces don’t smack together. 

_Way to ruin the moment, Adora,_ she thinks, her face hot with embarrassment as well as arousal. The weight of Catra’s body against hers is achingly familiar and Adora wants to pull her tighter, press up against her until she no longer knows the difference to the two. She feels Catra shake against her for a moment and pulls back, worried that maybe she _had_ hit something on the way down. 

Catra pushes up so that she’s nearly straddling Adora and _laughs._ Adora sits up a little bit, pushing herself up on her haunches — and then she’s laughing too, something about the scene feeling strangely familiar. 

“You’re such an _idiot,_ ” says Catra. With the back of her hand, she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. Her hair is mussed around her face, her ponytail hanging on by a thread. Her shirt is half undone, and Adora has never hated buttons so much in her life. 

Catra moves off of her, dropping into a crouch at the edge of the bed. Adora misses her weight instantly. She pushes herself into a sitting position and watches, confused, as Catra makes quick work of the tennis shoes and socks on her feet. 

“Who wears _tennis shoes—”_ she throws one of the shoes over her shoulder without a care in the world “—to a nightclub?” 

“They’re easy to move in,” Adora says sensibly, “I didn’t exactly think I would be doing… _this_.”

“Oh, yeah?” Catra asks, one eyebrow arched.

She’s so arrogant. She’s _always_ been so arrogant. Adora has half a mind to give her a playful kick, but she looks so _pretty_ in the moonlight. Her eyes dark, her skin darker. Before she knows what she is doing, Adora leans forward and catches Catra’s jaw in her hand, gently cupping the slope of it in her palm. 

“Yeah,” Adora breathes, their gazes locking together in the dark room. 

And then Catra’s hands are smoothing up her legs, brushing at the bare skin of her thighs, pushing up the flimsy fabric of her skirt and her mouth is hot against the inside of Adora’s knee.

The hand anchored to the side of Catra's face runs through her upswept hair, pushing back to curl around the nape of her neck. The other one digs into the sheets. Catta presses open mouthed kisses into the soft skin on Adora's thighs, her hands smoothing soothingly up and down the length of Adora's legs as she goes. They slide up further under the bunched up fabric of her skirt, ghosting teasingly under the hem of her underwear. 

Adora's breath hitches when one of those fingers brushes lower, the tip ghosting lightly over the ever-dampening fabric between her legs. Her hips stutter, jerking slightly into the touch, needing _more._

That clever finger trails knowingly _up_ for a moment, and then falls away, hands moving to smoothe over the sides of her thighs. Adora bites back a groan. God, she's such a _tease._

“You like that?” Asks Catra, mouth still pressed to her inner thigh. The words vibrate against the soft skin and hard muscle there, sending shivers up Adora's spine. 

She nods, then realizes Catra can't see, so instead she forces out a strangled noise of affirmation, followed by, “ _Catra…”_

“I know,” murmurs Catra into her skin, scraping gently at the inside of Adora's thigh with her teeth. Her hands work their way up again, her fingertips pressing into the top band of her underwear. She does look up then, searching Adora's face as she asks, “Can I…?”

It's maybe the stupidest question Adora has ever heard in her life. She nods more enthusiastically than is probably necessary. Catra chuckles and doesn't break the contact as she curls her fingers and slowly pulls at her underwear. Adora shifts her hips up to ease access, and then the garment is gone in a slow whisper of fabric against her thighs, down her legs, only to be deposited carelessly onto the ground.

Catra hooks her hands under Adora's knees and pulls her forward slightly, closer to the edge of the bed. The movement splays her legs open further and Adora shifts them wider to accommodate Catra in the vee of her thighs. 

Catra's head ducks low again, but before she can get to work, Adora says, “Wait — take—”

She tugs lightly at the loose shirt hanging from Catra's lithe frame. With a roll of her eyes, Cats gets the memo. She slips it from her shoulders and tosses it. When Adora snaps the strap of the black bra on her shoulder she gets rid of that too, revealing small, high breasts that almost have Adora abandoning their current positions to get her hands on.

She doesn't, though, because then Catra's hands are back on her, one thumb ghosting up to slide through the slick between her legs and then up even further, brushing gently against the bundle of nerves. Even that light touch has Adora bucking forward. 

“You're wet,” murmurs Catra, thumb drawing slow, torturous circles against Adora's clit.

Adora gasps. “Whose fault do you—”

The rest of the sentence is lost in a startled cry as Catra leans forward, pressing her face between Adora's thighs, and licks a hot line up her center. She laughs at Adora's lack of restraint, and Adora can feel the vibration of it against her sensitive skin. 

She lets Catra pull her closer, push her legs even wider to grant better access. Her mouth is hot and _wet_ against Adora, tongue expertly laving down the seam of her entrance, thumb still drawing lazy circles over her clit that make Adora see stars. Her other hand ghosts up under the fabric of the dress, up Adora's defined abdominals, pressing in ever so slightly. Part of her wants to follow Catra's guidance, to fall boneless back against the bed while Catra pleasures her. A greater part wants to watch.

She does so with wide eyes as Catra eats her out with single minded determination. She smoothes one hand over the side of Catra's jaw, feels the way it works under her palm. The other one smoothes back into Catra's hair, blunted fingernails raking gently over her scalp, long fingers digging into the base of her skull to press her closer, deeper.

Catra's tongue sips inside and Adora gasps, bucks forward, opens up underneath her. She can feel the pressure building low in her abdomen and her breathing comes in short, sharp gasps that she would try to stifle if they weren't so far from the rest of the world. She feels dizzy, lightheaded under Catra's skilled ministrations.

"Fuck," she says when Catra presses forward, tongue slowly gliding out and up, pressing flat against the bundle of her nerves. Catra's hands slip down and her fingers dig into Adora's thighs. “ _Catra_ ,” Adora says, voice breaking mid-word as Catra's tongue works her slowly. “Catra, I'm…”

“Come on,” says Catra quietly, voice ragged as she pulls away for air. Her breath is warm against Adora. "Come on, Adora," she says, then leans down, seals her mouth against the sensitive bud and _sucks_. 

Adora tips over the edge with a wordless cry, mouth going slack and eyes squeezing shut. She sees white behind her eyelids, her whole body wracked with hot relief as she comes, hips stuttering up into the heat of Catra's mouth. She falls back against the mattress but doesn't release Catra's hair, arching up against her tongue at the same time that she presses Catra's face down into her. Everything is hot, and wet, and so, _so_ much. 

Catra works her through her climax, fingers drawing small circles into Adora's skin while her mouth moves lazily against her center, lapping up the slick there until Adora is sensitive and overstimulated. Eventually, she pulls away with a wet sound and presses a kiss into the valley where Adora's thigh meets her pelvis.

“Wow,” says Adora breathlessly, the first thing she is able to say that even borders on coherent.

Catra snickers. "Don't ruin it," she says, voice light. 

Adora can feel when Catra leans back on her haunches, the heat of her body drifting from between Adora's legs. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together and trap her there. Instead, Adora pushes herself up to a sitting position with shaky arms, watching as Catra stands. 

Her ponytail is _destroyed._ She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, and Adora could go all over again. 

“Come here,” she says, and Catra does.

Adora presses open mouthed kisses into Catra's abdomen as her hands slip down, palm rubbing low against the fabric of Catra's jeans. She is rewarded with a small jerk of Catra's hips, a moan strangled as she pushes herself further into Adora's hand. Adora smiles against Catra's skin and trails her hand up when Catra tries to grind against it, revenge for her earlier teasing. 

Her fingers fumble with the button and fly of Catra's pants. Once those are taken care of, she slips a hand under the waistband, Catra's skin warm against her palms as she slides jeans and underwear down in one go, revealing the enticing vee of Catra's pelvis, the smoothe bronze of her upper thighs. 

She takes a moment to slip her own dress off as Catra peels her tight jeans the rest of the way down. With a careless kick, Catra tosses them to the side, revealing long, toned legs. Every moment that Adora spends fumbling with her own bra instead of touching all of that skin is torture. 

Once they've both shed their clothing, Adora pauses. 

The room is dark except for the moonlight streaming through the open window, casting everything it touches with a soft glow. She studies Catra in the darkness, from her lithe legs to the slope of her waist, the peaks of her small breasts and the curve of her perfect shoulders, all the way up to her face, framed by disarrayed wisps of dark hair. Adora wants to drink in the sight of her, to make up for all of the lost time. 

She leans forward, her hands fitting perfectly at the dip of Catra's narrow waist, and breathes, "You're beautiful." 

Something glints in Catra's eye, something Adora can't quite read. A vulnerable expression, sad and soft, and it breaks Adora's heart.

Before she can say anything, Catra leans down to kiss her, fingers cradling Adora's face in her hands. Adora opens up to let her in, uncaring that she can still taste herself on Catra's mouth. She returns the lazy, languid kiss with enthusiasm, delighting in the shiver down Catra's spine when Adora runs the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She pushes a hand through Catra's hair, yanking it from it's wrecked updo as gently as she can, letting it tumble to the low of her back. 

By some miracle, they manage to shuffle back onto the bed. Adora falls back against the pillows, hair spilling like molten gold against the pale bedding. Catra sinks down on top of her and Adora's hands instinctively go to her hips as Catra leans over her, hands pressed against the mattress either side of her head. 

The first slow grind of her hips against Adora's has her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head. She pushes up against it and the two fall into a slow rhythm, pushing and pulling against each other. Adora's hands skate up Catra's taut abdomen to caress her breasts, brushing at her erect nipples with her thumbs. 

It coaxes a low moan from Catra's throat and she arches into the touch. The movement only brings their hips closer together. 

She repeats the action, relishes in the way Catra's hips buck. She's always liked this — fitting Catra in her hands and unravelling her, a slow undoing under Adora's careful ministrations. She wants to watch her come undone completely, to push and pull, to press up into her until Catra is melting in her hands. And more than anything, she wants Catra to enjoy it. 

“You feel so good,” Adora murmurs, hands cupping the soft swell of Catra's breasts. She punctuates the last word with another roll of her hips. 

“You're not so bad yourself,” says Catra, the last, arrogant word breaking as Adora slides a knee up, grinding the muscle of her thigh up between Catra's legs. “ _Fuck,_ Adora.”

“Thought you did that already?”

“You really _are_ an idiot.” Despite her words, Catra surges forward into another open-mouthed kiss, cut off by the occasional moan as Adora's thigh works against her. 

With the change of position, Adora's hands slip from Catra's chest and skate around to her back, blunt fingernails tracing light paths up and down the expanse of skin there. She pulls Catra down further against her until they're chest to chest, a line of contact that sends blooms of heat down the length of her torso. 

Adora could do this all night, could do it forever, rolling lazily up against Catra like the waves that lap against the shore until the timer runs out. Catra's body against hers is a weight that is at once familiar and foreign and all Adora wants to do is press up into it until there is no space between them, until she can no longer tell where she ends and Catra begins, until she forgets all the space and time that has separated them.

She pushes her leg up against the heat of Catra's center, a warm wetness drawn against the skin of her thigh with each roll of their hips. Adora has no doubt she could make Catra come from this, rocking into one another like they're college kids again. She's always been more sensitive — physically and emotionally — than she lets on, especially like this: hair loose, eyes closed, vulnerable in a way that had once been only Adora's. 

Adora has other plans, though. She lets Catra ride her thigh, fingers drifting up and down her back, over the small, firm expanse of her ass, and pays attention to those movements. She waits until Catra's hips begin to stutter, when the breaths against Adora's mouth start to hitch in the back of her throat. 

She flattens her leg against the bed. Catta's head rears back in confusion, and with a smirk Adora sits up and rolls the two of them over, flipping their positions. From this vantage point, she takes Catra in — her tangled hair, her sweat-shined skin, the expression on her face somewhere between annoyance and arousal. 

“You caught me,” deadpans Catra. “Now what're you gonna do?”

Adora plants a knee between Catra's legs again, shifting to straddle one of them. “Whatever you want me to do.” 

Without breaking eye contact, Catra takes Adora's hands in hers and guides it slowly down.

God, she's wet. Adora shifts to the side to allow herself better access and trails one deliberate finger downwards. The first, feather light brush against her clit has Catra's hips bucking into the touch, mouth falling open soundlessly. 

Adora's fingers slip through the wetness between Catra's legs, running shallowly through her folds. She braces herself on one arm so that she can drift her gaze between Catra's face and her own hand working slowly between Catra's parted legs. 

She's not so cocky anymore, but that's not what Adora cares about — all she cares about is making Catra feel _good_ , about coaxing more of those ragged sounds from her open mouth and pushing her higher, higher. She lets her middle finger slide through Catra's lower lips, occasionally showing mercy and bumping up at her clit with her thumb. She drinks in Catra’s expression, watching the way the motion makes Catra's eyes slam shut with a hungry gaze. 

“Like that?” Adora asks, more to check in than to tease. 

Catra rolls her hips up into Adora's hand, probing her finger slightly deeper. “Adora,” she says, “ _Please.”_

There's that _please_ again, just like in the jostling chaos of the nightclub. It's quieter here, more desperate. Adora is powerless against it. She drops her head low, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Catra's slender neck, and sinks two fingers into her. 

Catra moans, low and loud, breath ghosting over Adora's ear. She's hot and wet and _tight_ around Adora's fingers, and when Adora brushes clumsily at her clit with her thumb, she only clamps down harder. 

“Fuck,” Catra says. “ _Fuck.”_

Adora lifts her head from where she is sucking a dark bruise into Catra's neck to look down between their bodies, watching her hand disappear into Catra. With a wet sound, she slips her fingers out and then back in again, finding a languid, pumping rhythm in and out of Catra's body. 

Catra's hands fly to Adora's back. Her nails are slightly longer than Adora's, just long enough to scratch. She digs them into Adora's back, setting small fires across her pale skin with every thrust Adora makes into her. It only encourages Adora, and she curls her fingers experimentally, hooking into Catra's front wall. 

Catra tightens around Adora immediately, back arching, breasts pressing up into Adora's. Adora watches the shifting of her face, features contorted with arousal, and breathes, “Look at you.” She drops a kiss to Catra's temple, then her cheek, then the divot where the corner of her jaw meets her neck. “So good. So beautiful.” Her fingers repeat the motion inside Catra again, curling forward again and again. 

She could do this all night, she really could, as long as Catra would have her. Her pain slider is set to zero, meaning she doesn't have to worry about her hand cramping or her other arm giving out in exhaustion. All she has to focus on is Catra, opening up beneath her like a flower to the sun. 

“Want another one?” She asks into Catra's neck. 

When Catra nods and lets out a shaky " _Yeah_ ," Adora complies. She slips a third finger in, flexing her fingers carefully as Catra stretches around her, hot as a furnace and tight as a vice. She pushes in deeper, curls her fingers up into that point she knows Catra likes. 

“Don't stop,” Catra says from underneath her. “Adora, I'm so close.”

Adora plants another kiss to her soft mouth. She shifts up on her arm without pulling her other hand out of Catra, shifting back so that she can slide down Catra's body and work her with her mouth as well. 

She doesn't make it far, though. Before she can move, Catra's fingers dig into her back, holding her in place. “No,” Catra says, grinding herself up onto Adora's fingers, pressing them _deeper_ , “Stay.”

_Stay._

Something clenches deep in Adora's stomach, a gnawing sense of guilt when she remembers the last time Catra said that word to her. Adora can do nothing but comply, letting Catra clutch her tighter as she pumps her fingers in and out of her. 

She pushes her thumb up against Catra's clit between thrusts, swirling at the wet bundle of nerves. She works her hand deeper and deeper, fingers arching, pressing into that soft spot inside Catra. 

She feels when Catra comes. Her muscles seize around Adora, hot walls clamping against Adora's hands in pulsing waves. Catra's hips jerk unconsciously, aftershocks wracking her body as she climaxes around Adora's long fingers. Adora showers her in a soft litany of ,“ _It’s okay, I’ve got you,”_ thumb rolling carefully against Catra’s sensitive skin. 

Adora watches her face through it, the way she tosses her head back and stares up at Adora with glassy eyes, mouth open on Adora's name. Hand still working Catra slowly through her orgasm, Adora leans down and captures her mouth in a kiss, drinking in her cries before they can escape. 

She flexes her fingers languidly into Catra's dripping center until the waves start to fade, until Catra relaxes, boneless, against the mattress. When she finally withdraws her fingers, she does it as gingerly as possible. She runs her fingers briefly in soothing strokes against Catra's folds as her hand slips away. Her fingers leave a wet trail against the inside of Catra's thigh. 

The room is filled with the sounds of Catra's ever slowing breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the shore outside. Adora all but falls on top of her, face pressing into the slope of her neck. Fresh arousal burns between her own legs, and she fits a hand into the tight space between her and Catra's bodies. 

Catra's sharp grip on her back has loosened but not fallen away. She soothes her hands against Adora's damp back as Adora works herself in the meager space between them. One of Catra's hands tousles at Adora's sandy blonde hair, scattering it across her skin. 

It only takes a few moments, fingers swirling against her own clit, and then Adora is falling apart again, biting back a strangled cry while Catra murmurs, “ _Good girl. That was so good, Adora,”_ against the shell of her ear, her hands rubbing soothing circles into Adora's skin. 

When she finally recovers from the shock of her own climax, Adora rolls off of Catra. She sinks into the scattered layers of bedding, unsure if she's ready for a nice, long nap or round two. 

Her gaze drifts to Catra, studying her. Her eyes are closed but she isn't asleep. Her breathing is less labored now, and Adora watches the slow rise and fall of her chest not with arousal but with affection. 

She doesn't know what to do now. She wants to reach out to Catra, to fold her into her arms and press her into her chest. She wants to _keep_ her, to curl her into tiny parts and fit her into the safe space under her own heart. It's ridiculous, how these feelings she had locked away years ago have come rushing back just at the sight of Catra. Here she is, close enough to touch, and yet Adora is sick with longing for her. 

Catra breaks the silence, raspy voice strained with exhaustion when she says, “Are you still staring, you weirdo?”

One eye — the blue one — peeks open. Despite everything they just did, getting caught staring is what makes Adora blush. 

“That was really stupid,” is her only response. It wasn't intentional, but it's true. She was so caught up in the sex, in being pleasured, in pleasuring Catra that she hadn't stopped to think about it -- but she's far past the point of fooling around with an ex. With _the_ ex, the one whose absence had cleaved Adora's life into two points, _with Catra_ and _without Catra_. She swallows, unsure if she can recover from this. 

Catra doesn't seem to share the same concerns. Or if she does, she is doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Somrthing tells Adora it's the latter. “Yeah, it was,” Catra agrees. She pushes up on one arm. Adora’s eyes follow the movement, from the tumble of her dark hair to the peak of her breasts in the moonlight. “Want to do it again?” 

* * *

They don’t talk much after that. Adora is surprised when Catra curls into her chest after the second round, pressing her face into the dip of Adora’s neck. Adora holds her quietly, running a gentle finger down the length of her damp spine. She wants to stay here forever, where Catra is warm in her arms and the ocean crashes at the shore outside, where reality can't touch them. 

“How much time is left?” She murmurs into Catra’s hair. 

Catra shifts against her. “Who cares?” 

A compelling argument. Adora closes her eyes and inhales the familiar scent of Catra’s hair, and they lay like that until the timer runs out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! 
> 
> I haven’t written smut since I was like fifteen writing bad anime smut. I probably won’t do it again for another ten years. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
